I still remember the first time my dad drove me to visit Mrs. Doolittle. He played On Fine Day in his car, humming some melodies. Mrs. Doolittle was a nice old lady. She brings some honey cake for me every time she comes. I’m curious what would her house look like.

As I was soaked in my imagination, my father stopped the car. I noticed that we stood in front of a forest. “We need to walk now,” he said. It was a perfect day to stroll in the forest. The sunlight was drilling through the apertures formed by leaves. The birds were playing with the wind. It was like we were walking barefoot on pebbles, feeling the breath of the earth. Suddenly, I saw a little wooden house. “Is that Mrs. Doolittle’s house?” I asked. My father smiled mysteriously, said, “There will be a surprise for you.” then he covered my eyes with a towel and led me. I was a little bit afraid, feeling like walking in the deep dark woods. When we walked closer, a smell of lemons and honey cake flew toward me. I know, we were almost there.